Harry Potter and the Next Year
by MarianaReads
Summary: A Year Eight story - rated M for swearing and sexual content. Takes place after the end of the Second War but before the epilogue. Various pairings that will shift and change throughout the course of the story. M/F, M/M. Please comment and review.
1. Chapter 1

One Month After.

Harry stared down at the piece of parchment Hermione had set before him moments ago and attempted to gauge his own reaction - anger? No, not quite anger… but a steady hum of annoyance began to fill his ears and he looked back towards his friend for what felt like the hundredth time in the last five minutes. Harry turned his gaze towards Ron, next to him, and felt marginally comforted by the confusion he saw reflected on his friends face. Harry looked back up at Hermione, who was pacing in front of the two, cutting a path through the small kitchen of the apartment she and Ron had recently leased.

"I don't understand," Harry said dumbly and Hermione sighed loudly.

"What's to not understand? It's all there. McGonagall and I have created an independent study course that will prepare the two of you for the Auror training program. It will fit everything that we should have learned during Seventh Year into the fall term. Spring term will be spent in revision for the N.E.W.T. examinations and preparation for entry at the Ministry," Hermione replied. Harry glanced back down at the schedule and frowned. Sure enough, Hermione had created an incredibly detailed schedule down to the minute - every moment of this theoretical Eighth Year was accounted for, even down to the -

"What's Remedial Therapeutics?" Harry asked, staring at the Wednesday block, 2:30 - 5:30 PM.

"Therapy. With McGonagall-"

"Therapy? I don't need therapy-" Harry began to argue but was cut off.

"Harry, please. We've all just survived a War that we were front and center in. All of us have been affected, all of us have been changed. You most of all. You need to talk to someone and McGonagall and I both agreed-"

"Hermione. I don't need therapy," Harry repeated through gritted teeth. He felt the heat rising up his neck and he pulled a deep breath in through his nose. The entire notion of an Eighth Year was ludicrous but the thought of Hermione discussing him with Professor McGonagall like he was a _child_ infuriated him.

"Harry, we know that you don't sleep at night and when you do, you're having violent nightmares. You pull your wand out, ready to curse anything that startles you and-"

"Hermione, drop it," Ron said, finally speaking up. He glanced up at this girlfriend and frowned. "We just moved in and you want to go back to Hogwarts?" Harry blinked at the sound of hurt in his friend's voice and he stared at Hermione, suddenly feeling very protective over Ron.

"It's not like we're leaving it-"

"But we are," Ron said simply. "We just settled in. We're just starting to get some piece of normalcy back-"

"Ron, nothing has ever been normal for us… so how can we get it back? God, nothing has been normal since I turned eleven and found out that I was a witch. Nothing about this life is normal," she responded and Ron stared at her, the hurt framing every single line in his face.

"That may be true for you," he said softly. "But this is my life. This is all I've ever known and all I've wanted was to be with you and here we are, starting a life and now you want to end it."

"No," Hermione said and sat across from him, staring at him. "I'm trying to start our life together. We'll finish school and we can begin careers and make something of ourselves-"

"Hermione, we survived the War. We're already something and besides… I don't want to go back to Hogwarts. To do what? Pretend that nothing ever happened and carry on, learning Divination? It's bullshit. I don't want that. I don't even want to be an Auror," he admitted. Hermione blinked at him in confusion.

"That's all you've ever wanted-"

"Yeah, before. But things have changed. I've never been great at school and being an Auror was what all little kids wanted to be when they grew up. But I've grown up and I've seen the dark shit that I'd be fighting everyday." Ron shook his head and glared at the school schedule, pushing it away from him. "I don't want that. I appreciate that you took time and thought about what I may want, but it isn't this. I've had enough darkness to last me an entire lifetime."

"Then what do you want?" Hermione asked, staring down at her discarded schedule. Ron shrugged and ran a hand through his hair.

"Honestly? I have no idea. I'm only eighteen and I'll figure it out, but-"

"You and Harry can't spend the next year drinking yourselves into oblivion while under the pretense of trying to figure yourselves out," Hermione snapped and Harry felt a twinge of guilt at her accusation.

He and Ron had spent a better part of the last few weeks doing nothing but crawling between the various pubs in London, "celebrating" as they'd tell anyone who would listen. Celebrating their victory over the Dark Lord but in all honesty, Hermione was right about this one thing. The two of them had no idea what they were supposed to do now that the single goal - reason for living - for the past seven years had been accomplished… and while Harry believed that Ron was simply having fun, Harry was trying desperately to come to grips with his life. Harry had expected that he would suddenly be happy and content the moment the War was over and won, but his reality was far from that. Ron cleared his throat and Harry was ripped from his thoughts.

"We're just having some fun but honestly, George needs help with Wheezes and he's been asking me…" Ron glanced up at Hermione, hesitantly, as if afraid of her reaction. For her part, she merely stared at him.

"In what way would you be helping?"

Ron shrugged. "I suppose filling in, you know, where… George can't do the job of two people. He's my brother. He needs help… and that's what family is supposed to do."

"But would this be long term? Would you be co-owner? How would you be compensated for your time-"

"Christ, Hermione. He hasn't laid out a job offer for me-"

"Well, if this is going to be your career, you need to know the details," she replied coolly.

"Fred died, Hermione. My brother _died_. George lost his twin, his business partner. I don't want to be an Auror and I don't want to go back to fucking school," Ron snapped and pushed himself back from their small table, standing. "Come on, Harry. Let's go drink ourselves into oblivion," he said, staring at Hermione.

"Ronald. It is eleven in the morning," she snapped back and Ron shrugged. He grabbed his wallet from its place on the kitchen counter and shoved it deep into his back pocket, leaving their small apartment with a slam of the door. Hermione turned her eyes to Harry who merely sat, staring at her.

"Well," she said primly. "We have until August Fifteenth to decide."


	2. Chapter 2

Luna watched her father and numbly wondered whether having friends would have made her life more tolerable at its current situation. Xenophilius Lovegood shuffled his feet, pacing the length of their kitchen, mumbling manically to himself. Luna frowned but simply watched - no good would come from attempting to calm her father, though it had taken Luna two weeks to come to that conclusion. At best, Xenophilius would greet her attempts at soothing with whimpers and frightful, pathetic tears. At worst, he cast violent curses at her, attacking her as though she were a Death Eater or worse. The last time she attempted to stop her father from his frenzy, he had lit her hair on fire - thankfully only the ends - and Luna had been forced to cut six inches off the length of her beloved hair.

Luna had learned her lesson and now she just sat, watching and waiting for Xenophilius to inevitably notice her. His eyes would widen and he would begin to shake, coming towards her while mumbling her name. Xenophilius would begin to weep and he would clutch at her and whisper, "Luna, my love. You're here. We must go. Quickly! Before they come back!" Xenophilius would clutch at her hands and pull her, violently, towards the door, attempting to flee the specters that haunted his every waking moment.

At first, Luna tolerated her father's hallucinations with love and care. She was convinced that the correct spell or potion would cure her father and bring him back to her, finally aware that the War was over and no one was hunting them anymore. Luna weathered his violent outbursts like a saint but eventually gave way to hysteria, accepting that her beloved father had suffered some sort of mental breakdown and Luna began to despair that she would ever see the man who raised her again. But now, weeks later, Luna knew that he was lost to her forever and so she spent each agonizing minute of her day watching him to ensure that he would not harm himself or her.

Luna turned her gaze to the clock for a moment before turning her attentions back to her father. Five more minutes and they would be scheduled to arrive - Healers from Saint Mungo's who would come and whisk her father away to a long term care facility in Ireland. Luna searched for the twinge of guilt she had once felt when she decided - no, accepted - that she could no longer care for Xenophilius by herself. But she felt nothing… nothing at all. Luna stood slowly and approached him, forcing a smile across her lips as he turned towards her.

"Luna," he breathed, reaching out to her and she slowly reached him, folding his shaking hands between hers.

"Hi, Daddy," she said softly and pulled him slowly towards her. "Daddy, some people are going to be here soon… Good people, I promise," she cooed at the site of panic growing in Xenophilius's eyes. "They're going to help us. But I need you to give me your wand, okay?"

"No, no. I need to keep us safe. They're coming for us and we need to be ready. Ever vigilant," Xenophilius muttered and tried to pull his hands out of Luna's grip. She held fast and shook her head.

"No, Daddy. I need your wand. I will protect us," she murmured soothingly. A knock at the door sounded and Luna winced, cursing them silently, wishing they would just come in. It would make this all easier. "That's them, Daddy. They're good, remember that." Xenophilius screamed and looked wildly towards the door, thrashing against Luna's grip, his own strength pathetic when compared to the man he once was.

"Let me go, damn you! I need to find Luna," he screamed and began to sob when two Healers let themselves in and entered the kitchen. They both raised their wands as they stepped slowly, cautiously towards Xenophilius.

"Daddy, I am Luna," she said and the male Healer stepped next to her, motioning for her to step back. Luna dropped her hold on her father and slammed her back into the wall of her kitchen, watching her father crumble like a scared, cornered animal as the two Healers approached him.

"Mr. Lovegood, we're here to help you," the female Healer said and Xenophilius began to shake his head violently. "Does he have his wand?" She asked, eyes trained on her father and Luna breathed, "Yes…" Xenophilius began to frantically search the pockets of his tattered robes, groping for his wand before the male Healer raised his wand and said softly, "Stupefy." Xenophilius dropped like a child's rag doll to the ground and the two Healers moved towards him. Luna drew a shaky breath in through her nose and she turned her back on the scene. Clearly she could feel enough to be horrified by the sight of her father, unconscious on the ground. He looked sickly frail and much older than he actually was.

A soft hand landed on Luna's shoulders and she jumped violently, turning to face the female Healer. "We've got him from here, Luna. He'll be okay, I promise you," she said softly and Luna numbly nodded, squeezing her eyes shut and standing there stupidly until she heard the front door click and she was alone.


	3. Chapter 3

Ginny elbowed her way through the crowd towards the bar where Ron and Harry were perched, both looking completely wasted and pissed off. Ginny rolled her eyes and geared up for another long night - Ron was typically a happy drunk but he looked ready to murder the next person to look at him the wrong way and Harry? Well, Harry was his typical angsty self complete with the self-loathing and lingering sadness that was just noticeable enough to kill any buzz that Ginny could get. She reached the pair and waited for them to acknowledge her. Ron glared straight ahead and Harry simply ignored her.

"Fuck, who died?" Ginny shouted over the din of the bar and sighed when Ron's expression darkened. "I'd pull your head out of your ass, Ron. Hermione's about ten minutes away and she's going to pull you out of here whether or not you like it. Don't be a complete moron and fuck things up between the two of you. She was only trying to help and you," Ginny paused, turning towards her alleged boyfriend. "Let's get out of here." Harry shook his head shortly and threw another shot back, slamming the empty glass down on the bar top. Ginny placed her hand on Harry's thigh and he jerked away from her touch, clenching his jaw.

"I'm not in the mood for this, Gin," he said darkly and Ginny stared at him. No matter what she did, what she tried, Ginny could not figure him out and she was exhausted. Ginny thought that the end of the War would mean a carefree, fun Harry Potter but she could not have been further from the reality of the situation. Rather than allowing himself to have fun for the first time in years, Harry had catapulted himself into an abyss of darkness, abandoning Ginny. She stood at the periphery of his life like a mere spectator, watching and hoping for a second of attention. And she was tired of it.

One week following the War was all she needed to be convinced that she did not actually know Harry Potter. Rather, she built up some perception of him as though he were a demigod and super-human. Ginny chalked up her misconception as the result of a silly crush but now she was stuck with this person and she had no idea where to go with him. Harry felt no draw to her - that was abundantly clear. The two had shared a handful of kisses - chaste kisses - but anytime Ginny tried to take things further, he pulled away and left as quickly as possible. Ginny knew almost instantly after the War that their relationship was a facade but every time she tried to end things with Harry, he would go ballistic. Harry accused her of abandoning him, of putting too much pressure on him so soon after the War, of being an immature and stupid girl… and Ginny was beginning to feel like she was losing her mind.

Ginny felt trapped - Harry would not let her leave and everyone around her begged her to give him more time. She felt like she was suffocating and desperately hoped against all hope that Harry would decide _not_ to return to Hogwarts so that she could get away from his darkness.

Hermione walked up to the three of them and sighed, looking back and forth between the two men. "Alright, boys. Let's get you home," she said and Ginny stepped back, watching as Harry turned to Hermione without a single glance in her direction. Ron grumbled for a moment before ultimately standing, staggering, and he and Harry turned, walking towards the exit. Hermione glanced at Ginny and reached out, squeezing her arm affectionately.

"Hang in there, Ginny. He's just… I don't know. He's going through it right now," Hermione said softly and Ginny nodded numbly. It was the same tired excuse that everyone gave her for his behavior. Hermione turned and followed the two, leaving Ginny standing, alone - again - in their wake. Ginny turned towards the bar and climbed onto Harry's abandoned seat. The bartender headed in her direction and stared at her, as if appraising her age. She rolled her eyes and forced her usual carefree smile, actively pushing Harry Potter out of her mind.

"Oh, come on, Bill. Don't give me that. I'm of age. Now, be a sweetheart and give me a shot of Fire Whiskey and an ale," she said coyly, winking at the old man who grumbled at her but shot her a wink before turning to get her order.

"Ginny?" A voice sounded behind her and Ginny completely froze save for the thump of her heart within her chest. She could conjure an image of him - the last time she had seen him and her palms began to sweat. The old bartender placed her shot in front of her and Ginny quickly scooped it up, swallowing it hastily for courage before she turned to face Dean Thomas. Dean stared down at her, eyes wide and lips parted slightly, as surprised to see her here as she was to see him. Ginny felt the blush creep into her cheeks but prayed he couldn't see it under the dim light of the bar.

"Dean," she breathed and the two stared at each other before the quickly began to speak at the same time.

"You look amazing," she said while he said, "I missed you." Ginny watched him for another beat before she burst out into laughter, feeling light for the first time in weeks and felt butterflies erupt as Dean smiled at her. "Sit," she said and motioned to the bartender to pour another two shots for the pair of them. Dean sank into Ron's empty seat and watched her, his eyes never straying away for longer than a second. Ginny finished her second shot and turned to him, slowly allowing herself to analyze the emotions swirling around in the pit of her stomach.

"By any chance," Ginny began, turning to Dean. "Are you going back to Hogwarts?" Dean looked at her curiously at first before nodding. Ginny grinned at him and clapped her hands together. "Perfect. Let's have some fun."


	4. Chapter 4

Three Months Later.

Harry imagined that he could hear music thumping from within the Room of Requirement and wondered what would he would find once the heavy wooden doors finished completing themselves from the ancient stone that hid the Room from the rest of the castle. Harry patted his left pocket, feeling the weight and the heat of his D.A. coin from within his pants and considered whether Ron had been successful in his mission of convincing Aberforth Dumbledore to supply their party with an abundance of liquor and beer. "We're War veterans after all," Ron had reasoned after telling Harry his plan, and Harry hoped that Ron succeeded. It had been a long first week back at Hogwarts and he desperately needed the distraction that alcohol would give. A week of sobriety was a new record for him.

The doors finished materializing and Harry pushed into the Room, greeted by a nearly identical replica of the Gryffindor common room. A fully stocked bar sat in the far corner of the room that seemed to be spelled into serving itself, bottles of alcohol hovering in the air and pouring, albeit messily, every time an empty glass was set upon the surface of the mahogany bar top. The doors closed heavily behind him and the sound inside of the room intensified, insulated now that the room had been sealed and Harry glanced around, searching for his girlfriend amongst the students.

A heavy hand clapped down onto Harry's shoulder just as he thought he saw Ginny sitting on the arm of a chair occupied by none other than Dean Thomas, and Seamus Finnegan pulled Harry towards the bar. "Harry, my man!" he slurred and shouted over the noise of the gathering. "We've got anything you could ever want. Fire Whiskey, bourbon, vodka, and any sort of beer you've heard of. What's your poison?" Seamus slammed his empty ale glass down onto the bar top and Harry watched as the glass frosted over and a glass beer bottle emptied itself into Seamus's newly frosted glass. Harry was impressed.

"Was this your doing?" Harry asked, motioning towards the bar and grabbing a poured shot of something. He glanced at Seamus as he brought the glass to his lips and drank, welcoming the familiar burn like an old friend. Seamus laughed and shook his head, grabbing the beer from the bar. "God, no. Granger took care of this," Seamus said and drank his beer, nearly finishing the drink in two gulps. He slammed the glass down again and the process repeated itself - frost crept up the length of the glass and another beer bottle emptied itself. Harry coughed at Hermione's name and he stared at Seamus incredulously.

"Hermione did this?" Harry said, glancing over his shoulder to find his friend but Seamus was quick to shove another shot into his hand. Harry glanced down at the liquor and shrugged, throwing it back almost immediately.

"Fuckin' brilliant, in't she?" Seamus said, staggering.

"That's a word for it," Harry agreed, and reached for another shot. "Was the Ginny over there? With Dean?" Harry gulped the shot.

Seamus shrugged and shook his head. "Haven't seen 'er all day. I remember her saying that she wasn't going to make it tonight. Maybe she's gotta headache 'er something." Harry frowned at Seamus before reaching for a beer. Seamus glanced towards the entrance and watched as his friend and Ginny slipped out into the castle. He turned his gaze towards Harry and grinned. "Well, enjoy yourself, mate. We all deserve it." Harry raised an eyebrow and turned, watching Seamus as he weaved through the crowd. Harry shrugged, almost thankful that Ginny wouldn't be at the party tonight and turned, making his way towards the replica of the Gryffindor fireplace. He sank into a worn chair and glanced towards his two best friends, smirking at the look of irritation on Ron's face at the sight of a book in Hermione's hands.

"Ron. Hermione," Harry said and sipped at his beer. "I must say, that's brilliant work you've done at the bar… I've never seen a spell like it - perpetually frosted glasses. Where'd you find bartending spells?"

Ron rolled his eyes and huffed out a sigh. "Believe it or not, Harry. She created the fucking spell. Most brilliant fucking woman I've ever met in my entire life… and she's not even enjoying her own creation." Harry laughed as Hermione rolled her eyes but never raised her face from her book.

"Thank you, Harry… and Ronald, I've told you. We have so much time to make up for… I really can't waste a moment-" Hermione stopped her speech as Ron kneeled in front of her, staring at her.

"Hermione," he began, and folded a napkin, placing it in Hermione's book, marking her page. Hermione stared at Ron and Harry noticed her lips twitching, trying to fight a smile and maintain her exasperated mood. Ron brought one of Hermione's hands to his mouth and kissed her knuckles reverently, while slowly closing her book and placing it on the table next to her chair. "Dance with me, Hermione."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Ron, I did the stupid spells. I did what you asked and I didn't even want to come tonight. Go and enjoy yourself. Just leave me here and let me read."

Ron shook his head earnestly. "And you were absolutely fucking brilliant with the spells. But what's the point in creating something when you won't allow yourself to enjoy the finished product?" Ron stared up at Hermione and Harry couldn't believe it, he actually began to pout. Hermione rolled her eyes again, laughing lightly.

"Ron, really, I'm so-"

"How about this?" he interrupted. "A compromise," he said, nodding towards Harry, who lifted his glass to his friend, before turning back to Hermione. "Because we're adults and a couple, and that's what adult couples do. And because it was your brilliant talents in the arts of negotiation that got me to where I currently am. You come and dance with me. Forget that you give a damn about school for tonight and I promise you, on my soul and all that I am, that I will spend the day in the library with you tomorrow."

Hermione narrowed her eyes at her boyfriend. "All day?"

"We'll only come up for air when we need to eat and, of course, if you want to take a break for other activities…" Ron said, grin widening as Hermione's cheeks turned pink. Ron stood, and pulled gently on Hermione's hand, prompting her to rise. Hermione intertwined her fingers with Ron's and he pressed a kiss to her cheek. "Did I mention how beautiful you look tonight?" Ron said as the couple passed. Hermione reached out and squeezed Harry's shoulder with her free hand and Ron winked at him, and the two disappeared into the crowd behind the collection of chairs at the fire. Harry glanced at the book abandoned by Hermione and shuddered - Magical and Muggle Law, volume IV.

"Hello, Harry," Luna said as she sank into the chair next to his. Harry glanced at her and nodded to the rose colored drink in her hand.

"Luna. Wine? I didn't think you drank."

Luna shrugged and responded by downing the entire glass in one pull. Harry's eyebrows rose in surprise.

"A lot has changed," Luna replied and Harry noticed that the usual musicality that accented her words was absent, replaced by a heaviness that was so out of character for her that Harry frowned.

"Are you okay?" he asked and Luna turned her big, blue eyes on him.

"I'm being reckless and young," she responded dryly, and sat her empty glass on the table next to Hermione's book. Harry laughed darkly, his own sentiments mirrored in Luna's words. "Isn't that what we're supposed to do here?"

Harry shrugged and finished his own drink, relishing the warmth that spread through his body now that his belly was filled with shots of whiskey and beer. "I think the plan was that we all spend a night forgetting how fucked up we all are," he said. Luna continued to stare at him.

"I'll drink to that," she responded quietly and Harry glanced back towards her. "So, it's denial then?" Harry's eyebrows furrowed and he shrugged.

"Denial? Maybe. I just think everyone is so tired of being sad and serious… and we're back now, at Hogwarts… we're home, I guess. We're supposed to be having fun." Luna continued to watch Harry and he felt himself become uncomfortable. He broke their eye contact and looked at the fire, watching the flames consume the logs.

"That's a bunch of bullshit," Luna said. She stood and crossed in front of the fire, blocking Harry's view of the fire and forcing him to look up at her. Luna looked older somehow, more weary and worn. Something about her was different, darker, and Harry noticed that her eccentric jewelry was missing. Luna looked normal, if not sadder and perhaps even a bit angry.

"Ginny was here, by the way," Luna said. "She left with Dean while Seamus was trying to distract you at the bar. And I invited Draco Malfoy to the party. Don't be surprised if you see him here later. He looked lonely." Harry blinked stupidly at Luna and frowned as he glanced towards the door, as if he'd see Ginny and Dean slipping back in through the door.


	5. Chapter 5

Ginny grinned and pulled Dean towards her by the pockets of his - what'd he call it? - his hoodie. Dean reluctantly followed her and the two backed into a dark and empty classroom, illuminated only by splashes of moonlight that bounced off of the floor through the windows that reached the ceiling. Ginny turned and waved her wand, forcing the desks to separate and neatly arrange themselves against the periphery of the room. She turned back to Dean and smiled mischievously.

"Gin, this isn't right," Dean whispered and Ginny rolled her eyes.

"What isn't right?" Ginny teased and walked to the center of the room and stood in one of the patches of moonlight. Dean closed the door behind him but remained still, leaning against the doorway, arms folded and watching Ginny warily.

"You're dating Potter," he reminded her darkly, as if either of them could have possibly forgotten Ginny's current relationship status. She sighed and rolled her eyes again, turning to face Dean.

"You've gotten so serious, Thomas," Ginny taunted and laughed softly at his expression, all furrowed brows and angst. "Dean. We're here. We're alive," she said, and spun in a dizzy circle, fueled by too much alcohol and the giddiness that erupted within her core whenever she found herself alone with Dean Thomas. Dean stepped forward as Ginny stumbled and she laughed louder. "We survived," she whispered as Dean steadied her, one hand trained on her hip and she smiled, folding into his touch. "We're allowed to have fun." Ginny closed the distance between them and frowned when Dean took a step back.

"Fun was back before the War and when you didn't have a fucking boyfriend, Gin," Dean said harshly and Ginny realized how angry he was. She stepped towards him again, swaying with the weight of alcohol but desperately attempting to be serious.

"Dean," she said softly and grabbed his hand, tugging him towards her. "I've missed you. I was so worried about you," she pleaded. "All last year I was going insane… you disappeared with no word and-"

"I didn't have a choice. I'm half-Mudblood," Dean snapped. "And Potter? What about him? I suppose you told him that you were crazy with worry over him too." Ginny pulled her bottom lip between her teeth.

"I did miss him too," she admitted and felt Dean begin to pull his hand back. She held fast. "Give me a chance here, Dean. People were going missing every single day and no one knew if they'd survive the night-"

"I was there, Ginny. In case you don't remember. I was the one who was running from the Snatchers."

"Dean. Please," Ginny breathed and she placed her hands on either side of his waist, pulling him towards her. After a moment of hesitation, he stepped closer towards her but left his arms lank at his sides. "Give me time, okay? Harry is a part of my family and that's just how it is. We're all still reeling from Fred…" Ginny's voice hitched at her brother's name and Dean lifted a hand, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "Give me time and I'll make it right."

Dean frowned and studied her face. "What am I supposed to do, Gin? Just wait? Stay on the sidelines and wait for your beck and call, all the while you parade around as Potter's girlfriend?" Dean's voice became angry again and Ginny turned, pressing a kiss into Dean's hand.

"Don't be like this," Ginny pleaded. "This was never a problem before-"

"Before? Christ, Ginny. Before I lived on my own for a year, living everyday in fear that I was going to be captured and tortured and killed by Dementors. Yeah, I didn't give a shit if we messed around before but everything is different now and I'm tired of the bullshit. And it isn't right. Not after what Harry went through with V...Voldemort. I can't do that to him," Dean said.

"Which is why I'm asking for time… God, Dean. I've missed you so much and having you here… it changes… it changes _everything_ for me. I've missed you and I was so worried that I'd never see you again," Ginny said and stepped closer to Dean, pulling him towards her. "Unless you don't feel the same… if that's what you're trying to tell me." This time, Dean rolled his eyes and brought his hands to either side of her face.

"Nothing has changed for me, Gin. It's always been you. Always has been," Dean ducked his head and placed a chaste kiss on her lips, and groaned as Ginny dug her fingers into his sides. "But I can't do this - we can't do this - while you're still with him." Dean began to back away but Ginny raised her hands to the sides of his neck and pulled him towards her, capturing his mouth with hers. Ginny kissed him desperately, afraid that if she stopped he'd try to leave and acutely aware of how much she craved their physical connection. Dean returned the kiss but broke it moments later.

"Find me when you've broken up with him," Dean said and Ginny shook her head desperately, pleading.

"No, to hell with doing the right thing. I've always sacrificed what I've wanted so that others could chase their own needs but fuck it," Ginny said, and she pulled off her Gryffindor cardigan and dropped it to the ground. Dean's eyes widened as he watched her begin to unbutton her dress shirt, revealing an emerald green lacy bra and he swallowed. "I had a stupid crush on Harry and it was misguided and it went too far. But I need time to let my family heal before I fuck it up again but until then, I want you, Dean. I spent weeks thinking that you were dead and now we're both here, together, alive and I want to be with you again." Ginny stepped towards him, removing her shirt and tossing it on top of her discarded cardigan.

Dean watched her silently and felt his resolve chip away by the second. "Ginny," he hissed, and placed his hands against her bare skin as she came to him and he knew how this was going to end. "I'm going to hell for this."

Ginny grinned wickedly, all traces of seriousness and sadness gone, and she reached up, unzipping Dean's hoodie and pushing it down to the ground. She began to pull his uniform shirt out from his jeans and made hasty work of the buttons so that quickly, it too joined the forgotten clothing on the ground. Dean whipped Ginny around and she gasped as he lifted her, her legs around his waist, and crashed her up against the stone wall. Ginny sucked in a breath as the stone scratched her bare skin but the pain only spurred her on, and she and Dean crashed together, kissing and pulling at each other, frenzied by all the time they had lost with one another.


	6. Chapter 6

Neville woke with a start and glanced around the Room, noticing how quiet it had become and groaned at the headache that was beginning to ring within the very center of his head. He dug the heel of his hand into his forehead and with his other hand, dug between his body and the cushion of the armchair that he passed out in. He found his goal - the glass bottle that he had stashed deep within the chair moments before he blacked out. Neville sighed happily and uncapped the bottle, taking a deep swig, hoping that the old proverb about the hair of the dog that bit you was actually true.

"Mind sharing?" Neville jumped at the voice and turned, eyes wide, as he discovered Draco Malfoy sitting in the chair across from him. Malfoy was dressed in his usual black, expensive suit but had no entourage around him. Neville raised an eyebrow but nevertheless handed the bottle to the boy across from him.

"Malfoy," Neville said, by way of greeting. Malfoy drank directly from the bottle, eyes trained on Neville and rolled his eyes.

"Don't look so surprised. I was invited," he said defensively.

"Oh? Who invited you?"

"The blonde from Ravenclaw. The weird one. Lovegood," Malfoy said, and took another drink from the bottle before handing it back to Neville who narrowed his eyes at the description of Luna.

"Show a little respect, Malfoy," Neville snarled, and finished the contents of the bottle. He dropped the glass to the ground and leaned back into his armchair, studying Malfoy. For his part, Draco looked towards the dying fire so that Neville could continue the charade of staring at him as though Draco did not notice. Neville noticed that he looked different - older - but then again, who didn't look older and more hollow? And the way that Malfoy typically carried himself was gone too - no longer did he exude an air of self-importance and condescension. No, if Neville had never met the man before, he could've been anyone and Neville wouldn't have been any the wiser.

But he was still Draco Malfoy and so Neville regarded him with suspicion.

"Where're your friends?" Neville slurred and Draco turned his eyes on him.

"You mean, the ones who are still alive?" Neville simply watched him, unwilling to let his guard down. Malfoy had never been anything but cruel to him and old grudges ran deep. "I suppose most of them have opted not to return to school… and those who wanted to pursue education have been redistributed abroad."

"And you're not at Durmstrang because…?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Not that it's any of your damn business but I was enrolled at Hogwarts before the War and I have just as much right as any to return to it."

"Your Mummy was okay with that?" Neville asked meanly and felt satisfaction at the color that flooded into Draco's pale cheeks.

"Watch it, Longbottom. You're on dangerous ground," Malfoy snarled. "I was invited here and I'm met with hatred. Right. I shouldn't have expected anything different from Gryffindors." Despite his words, Malfoy remained seated and Neville watched him with curiosity.

"You shouldn't have been rude about Luna. And if you feel so unwelcome, if your feelings are so hurt, you're free to leave," Neville said darkly. Malfoy trained his eyes on Neville, hatred burning in his glare but after a moment, Malfoy sighed and Neville blinked as his demeanor changed entirely.

"I have nowhere to go," Draco admitted quietly and despite himself, Neville began to feel pity for his old enemy. Draco turned towards the fire and began to watch it once more, silently, and Neville stared at him, grasping for _anything_ to say that would distract from the awkwardness of the moment… and all at once it was so absurd that Neville found himself bursting into laughter. Draco's head snapped towards him and he glared, his face hardening.

"What the fuck is so funny, Longbottom?" Draco spat.

Neville laughed and shook his head, motioning between the two of them. "If you had told me, one year ago, that we'd be sitting together at a _party_ sharing a bottle of vodka…" Neville began to chuckle again and Draco blinked, a small smile tugging at his lips. Draco shook his head and glanced around the abandoned room, occupied only by themselves and a few other bodies, snoring heavily on the couches that lined the walls.

"Surely there must be more alcohol somewhere," he mused, searching. "There was enough liquor to supply an army."

Neville nodded in agreement. "Aberforth is very generous with us." Draco stood, smoothing his pants before crossing to the bar and picking up a bottle by its neck. An amber liquid sloshed around as Draco carried it back and sank into the chair directly next to Neville. His long fingers unscrewed the cap and he raised it towards Neville in salute.

"Longbottom. To… to…" Malfoy paused, squinting his eyes at the fire and he shrugged. "The fuck if I know." And he took a long drink before passing the bottle to Neville, who grinned at the half-assed toast.

"To the fuck if I know," Neville parroted and Malfoy looked at him, amused. Neville put the bottle to his lips and drank deeply.


End file.
